One Hundred Percent
by LovePeeta
Summary: Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch are training for the Quarter Quell. What happens one day when emotions are running high? One-shot.


**DISCLAIMER: All of the characters, plots, places, direct quotes, and everything else Hunger Games-related belongs to Suzanne Collins. I own none of it, and I am in no way associated with the Hunger Games franchise. No copyright infringement intended.**

**A/N I've always wondered what a day of training would look like for these three! So I just had the idea to write this one night. :) **

"Come on, guys! Pick it up!"

I swear if Peeta says to pick it up one more time I'm going to feed him some more of those "sugar berries." See if he still wants to run after that.

For the last few days, all we have been doing is running, throwing knives, eating, and lifting things. You'd think a death sentence from the Capitol would make him at least a little compassionate. But no, Peeta insists on being a drill sergeant. No alcohol, no kisses, no star-crossed lovers. We're Careers now.

It's not like it's that bad. In fact, Peeta and I have been doing quite well under his crazy training program. It's Haymitch I feel bad for. Half a mile around Victor's Village leaves him doubled over, gasping for air. But he keeps going because he knows it's the only way to get Peeta prepared, and that's what we both ultimately want.

"Okay, that's good for this morning," Peeta says. He's bent over stretching his muscles after what was approximately a three mile run. "We're improving, but we've got to step it up if any of us hope to make it very far in the arena."

Quite frankly, I'm getting tired of hearing his little pep talks. They were motivational at first, but I'm leaning more towards annoying these days. Without bothering to stretch, I start walking back to my house. I can almost feel him rolling his eyes as I leave, but I'm not being rude because I know he will follow as soon as he is finished. Mother will have a healthy snack prepared for us to replenish our bodies after the workout. Next on the list will be Dr. Prim's treatment of our sore muscles before we practice our combat skills this afternoon. It's a routine we have fallen into over the last few days.

"Katniss, is that you?" my mother calls from the kitchen.

"Yeah," I say.

I walk around the corner and find her setting out three plates. Each contains a banana and a handful of crackers. An unopened jar of peanut butter sits in the middle of the table.

"The potassium will help with your leg cramps," she says. I don't know anything about what will or won't help my aching body, but I learned long ago to never question my mother. So I sit down and start spreading peanut butter on one of the crackers.

"How was your run today?" she asks.

"Fine," I mumble between bites. "Haymitch was cursing Peeta about half a mile in, but we finished three miles this time."

We both laugh because it's a scene we've grown accustomed to.

"I know he's being hard on you two, but he means well," she says.

She's right, of course. Everything Peeta is doing is to ensure I will make it back from the Quell. But his efforts are in vain because Haymitch and I are both working against him. We haven't spoken directly about it, but the tension between us hasn't completely lifted since Snow's announcement.

"Hello, Mrs. Everdeen."

I turn around to see Peeta entering the kitchen with Haymitch trailing behind him. We all quit knocking on each other's doors long ago. After what we've been through together, we're not really concerned about formalities. Peeta sits in the chair to my right and Haymitch practically falls into the one on my left. Peeta and I eat wordlessly while Haymitch picks at his food. He has still barely touched it even after we've finished.

"You need to eat that, Haymitch," Peeta says.

Haymitch all but ignores Peeta, and I laugh to myself. Peeta gives me a disapproving look that says I'm not helping at all.

"I'm serious," he starts again. He's getting frustrated now. "We need to put on some weight before the reaping."

"You want my crackers, Katniss?" Haymitch picks up his plate and offers it to me. I laugh and say, "No, you _need _those crackers, Haymitch."

Peeta obviously isn't in a joking mood.

"You two really don't care!" He shakes his head and throws down the napkin he was holding. "Unbelievable!"

We watch as he angrily strides out the door and then hear him slam the door to his own house. He'll probably still be fuming tomorrow. That means we're bound to pay for it. We're all still sitting at the table when Prim walks in only moments later.

"What's wrong with Peeta? I tried to talk to him, and he looked really mad," she says. Peeta absolutely adores Prim so it must be bad if he wouldn't even talk to her.

"You should go talk to him, Katniss," Prim suggests.

The last thing I want to do is go talk to Peeta in his current mood, but Prim looks so concerned that I finally cave in.

"Fine," I sigh and give Haymitch a pointed look. "But this is your fault too."

Haymitch doesn't seem to be affected by my accusation. I reluctantly walk outside and along the path that leads to Peeta's house. I find myself wishing the walk was a little longer so I could figure out what exactly I'm going to say. But before I can form a good plan, I'm already at his door. It's unlocked so I let myself in.

"Peeta?" I call.

No answer. Looks like he's decided to be stubborn. It might work if I didn't know him so well. I don't have to look far because I know where he will be. Up the stairs, third door on the left. His painting room.

The door is open when I get there, and he is sitting on a wooden stool in front of an empty canvas. The sun slants through the window next to him making his soft curls look even lighter than usual. His head is bent slightly downwards, and his foot taps against the floor quickly. He's not actually painting anything, but that's not why he's here. This room is his haven. Just like the woods are mine.

I can tell he knows I am here by the way his muscles become extremely tense. Instead of launching into an apology, I simply walk over to where he is seated and pull up another stool.

"You know how serious this is, right?"

He doesn't sound angry as I expected him to be. He sounds solemn. And underneath that is an urgency that cuts right through me.

"I know," I reply weakly.

He stares into my eyes as if he is searching for something. Finally he says, "I'm sorry I lost my temper. I just feel so helpless. If we aren't one hundred percent committed to training, what else is there for us to do? How can I…"

He lets his question trail off, but I can finish it for him in my mind because it's the same question that plagues me day and night. _How can I keep you alive?_

"I'm sorry too," I say. "We were only joking, but we shouldn't have been. It's not funny."

"No, it's not."

I slowly reach for his hand, which is curled into a tight fist. His fingers relax at my touch, and I wrap them in mine.

I say, "One hundred percent. No more messing around. Deal?"

A sad smile forms on his face. My solution in no way solves our problem, but it's the best either of us can do. "Deal."

With that settled we walk back to my house and let Prim work her magic on our sore muscles. And for every day up until the reaping, not even Haymitch utters a complaint. We train like Careers. One hundred percent.


End file.
